


Strangers on a Train

by Wonko



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/F, One Night Stands, Scrub In, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonko/pseuds/Wonko
Summary: A long train journey. An intriguing seat mate. One amazing night. What comes next?





	1. The Night

The last train from Glasgow to Holby was packed, even ten minutes before departure. Bernie stowed her kit bag in one of the last remaining spots, then squinted at her ticket to check her seat assignment. She’d been at a medical conference for the last two days and was looking forward to getting home, even if home was just a barebones flat that she still hadn’t decorated in the two years since she’d walked away from her marriage.

She squeezed past a couple of women chatting in an incomprehensible accent (she vaguely understood the words  _ hen, bloody liberty and tell him ah’ll skelp his bum, so I will _ , but the meaning was lost on her) and found the correct row. A brunette in a lightweight navy trenchcoat was standing in the aisle, holding a suitcase of the type you could take on a low-cost flight without being charged.

“As you can see, I’ve booked this seat,” the brunette was saying. Her tone was a little strained, like she’d said this line a couple of times before.

The young guy in the seat looked meaningfully at the seat back. “There’s no reservation card,” he said. He was obviously a local and equally obviously didn’t plan to budge. Bernie raised her eyebrow at the potential confrontation.

“Can I help?” she asked, and thought she detected a little relaxation in the other woman’s shoulders.

“This gentleman was just getting out of my assigned seat,” the brunette said.

“Actually, I was just explaining to the wifey that there was no reservation card on the seat.”

Bernie sensed this impasse had been going on for a while. She looked the young man in the seat up and down, assessing him like he was a new recruit and finding him distinctly lacking. He was wearing Adidas tracksuit bottoms with Nike trainers and a ratty old T-shirt. There was a small pocket over the heart with a corner of something familiar poking out. Bernie’s eyes narrowed as she reached out and grabbed it.

“Oi!” the guy exclaimed, but Bernie ignored him.

“Oh, look,” she said. “A seat reservation card for today from Glasgow to Holby.” She looked down at him. “Hop it.”

He made a big show of gathering together his stuff but he left without any more complaints. The brunette turned to Bernie with a smile on her lips and her hand outstretched. “Very impressive,” she said. “I’m Serena.”

“Bernie,” Bernie replied, shaking the outstretched hand. She’d expected it to be soft, but it wasn’t. It was rough and calloused; a working hand, a skilled hand. “Feels like a surgeon’s hand,” she said, without realising she was speaking aloud.

Serena’s eyebrow raised. “Very adroit. I’m a consultant vascular surgeon at Holby City.”   


Bernie belatedly dropped Serena’s hand. “Ah…I’m locuming as a trauma consultant at St James’,” she said.   


Serena picked up her suitcase and found a space on the overhead rack to stow it. “Are we seatmates?” she asked. “Small world, isn’t it?”   


Bernie checked her seat reservation again. “Yes, looks like it. Do you want the window seat?”   


Serena smiled. “Thanks.” She sat down and patted the seat next to her. “Do you know, I think I saw you at the conference,” she said. “My neighbour at dinner last night was talking about you. Is it true you performed one of the only successful atriocaval shunts in the last fifteen years?”   


Bernie blushed lightly, her cheekbones turning a little pink. “Well, yes,” she said as she sat down. Serena seemed very close; closer than normal for a train seatmate. Of course, Serena was a big upgrade on the usual winos, flatulent curry lovers or general inadequates she usually found herself sitting next to.   


Much prettier too.   


Bernie smiled. “Would you like to hear about it?” she asked, and felt her heart give a little skip when Serena’s eyes lit up.   


The trip seemed to take no time at all. Serena sparkled. There was no other word for it. She was witty and warm, always ready with a quip or an anecdote, effortlessly charming. And rarer than all that, she knew when to listen too. Bernie had plenty of experience with extroverted people who were very good at being on transmit all the time but seemed to have a lot of trouble retuning to receive. One always got the sense from them that they were just waiting for it to be their turn to talk again, that they weren’t actually listening. Serena was different. She made Bernie feel like the most interesting person on the train.

And she was beautiful too. There was no denying that. Beautiful and  _ tactile,  _ which would normally have made Bernie tense and standoffish but tonight it just made her melt. She found herself leaning in to the little touches, the press of elegant, surgeon’s fingers against her own, the warmth of a palm on her shoulder, even once - thrillingly - the gentle squeezing of a thigh. She didn’t quite know how to reciprocate, but Serena didn’t seem to mind.

Was this flirting? Bernie didn’t really know. She’d skipped that stage of life, never having dated anyone before she met Marcus in her final year at Cambridge. She’d always believed that something must be wrong with her: what other explanation could there be for her complete lack of interest in the men she studied with or met on the wards during hospital placements? Marcus was a friend, a confidant, someone to be childish with and pass notes to in dull lectures. She didn’t fancy him, but she’d thought that perhaps that didn’t matter. She didn’t fancy anyone, after all, so there was no point waiting around for that. And her father had been so happy when she’d brought Marcus home. She knew that attending her wedding had been the high point of the last year of his life, before the cancer took him.

Decades later, in a war zone, choking in heat and dust, with the help of a slightly younger and much braver woman, Bernie had finally worked out why she’d never fancied any of the men in her life.

Marcus had taken the news badly. She’d tried to explain that she hadn’t lied to him, that she hadn’t been hiding anything from him that she hadn’t also been hiding from herself. It had taken a long time, but eventually he’d come round, said he understood. Their divorce had been finalised just last month, and they were able to bump into each other at St James’ with the bare minimum of awkwardness. It was time she moved on though. Professionally, and personally too.

Serena was telling a story about her nephew dropping her in it at work. “So he says, ‘but Auntie Serena, we don’t have plans. You’d just rather shove bamboo under your fingernails than go to an event honouring Mr Self.’” She rolled her eyes, then smiled. “True, of course. But I could have done without Jason saying it in front of the man.”

Bernie laughed, her fingers moving instinctively to the faded surgical scar on her neck. “Fair enough,” she said. “Good surgeon, but I could see him being something of a nightmare to work with.”

Serena quirked her eyebrow. “You know him?”

Bernie gestured to her scar, pulling her collar down slightly to show it more clearly. “He gave me this,” she said. “I was...well, I was in an accident a couple of years ago. They airlifted me back to your place, actually - broken neck, dodgy heart, the works. But I’m not paralysed and I’m not dead, so…” She trailed off with a shrug, a slight smile on her lips. The smile faltered as Serena reached up to brush her fingers over the scar. A slight shiver ghosted down her spine at the feel of Serena’s fingertips caressing the old wound, gentle and featherlight, yet somehow momentous too.

“He does good work,” Serena admitted. “And I’m certainly glad you recovered.”

This last was said in a low tone that could only be described as a purr. Bernie felt it all the way down to her toes. Was she imagining the way Serena’s eyes had just darkened?

“Uhm,” she managed to force out, her voice a little higher than normal. “Would you maybe like to get a drink with me sometime? You know, back in Holby.”

Serena smiled and made a show of checking her watch. “We’re due at Holby Central in twenty minutes,” she said. “I know a place nearby. They do a good Shiraz.”

“Tonight?”

Serena’s lips twitched and she leaned forward slightly. “No time like the present,” she murmured softly close to Bernie’s ear.

The bar was, as promised, just a few minutes’ walk from the station. It was busy without being crowded, and they found a table without too much trouble. Bernie insisted on buying, seeing as she was the one who’d made the invite. 

“You drink white,” Serena commented blandly when she returned with two glasses. “I’ll try not to hold the character flaw against you.”

Bernie shook her head, stumbling slightly over her words as a slight shade of pink darkened her cheekbones. “Oh, uhm...I find red a little heavy, in summer. I think of red wine as a winter drink. You know, curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, watching the snow falling outside…”

Serena’s eyes glinted. “A romantic!” she exclaimed, clinking their glasses together. “More than I could have hoped for.”

Bernie’s blush deepened, but she managed a smile. “Do you like winter?” she ventured, wincing a little at the lameness of the question. 

Serena didn’t seem to mind. “Mmm,” she replied, considering. “For me winter tends to mean RTCs and broken bones and the odd festive drunken stabbing. And that’s just at home.” She took a sip of her wine, smiling at her own joke. “No, I do love Christmas, and I won’t deny the picture you painted with the wine and the fire and the snow is very appealing, but I think I’ll have to plump for autumn.” She smiled faintly. “When the leaves turn and the mornings are crisp and you can go for walks wrapped up in a coat and find conkers…”

Bernie grinned. “You used to play conkers?”

“St Winifred’s school champion,” Serena insisted, then laughed. “Anyway, who said it was all in the past? I could give you a run for your money even now.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you could,” Bernie murmured, and the air suddenly turned thick. Serena’s eyes grew impossibly more dark and, after a slight, almost imperceptible hesitation, she slid her hand over the table to tangle her fingers with Bernie’s.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly.

Bernie just nodded, momentarily losing the power of speech. “Uhm...yes. It’s very okay.” She drew in a deep breath. “Do you want another drink?”

Serena looked down at the mouthful of Shiraz left in her glass, then slowly brought the rim to her lips. She kept her eyes trained on Bernie’s as she drank the last of the wine. Bernie stared, transfixed, feeling her heart jump a little in her chest as Serena’s tongue, darkened by the wine, slipped from her mouth to collect the last drops from the rim of the glass.

Serena placed the glass back on the table. “No,” she said. “I think I’d like to get out of here, actually.”

Outside it had begun to rain, one of those quick summer downpours that seem to start and end in a flash. Bernie glanced dubiously at the sky from the safety of the doorway. “We should probably call a cab to get us from here,” she suggested, but Serena just shook her head.

“There’s a rank back at the station,” she said, throwing a mischievous grin over her shoulder as she ventured into the rain. “Race you!”

After a dumbfounded moment Bernie followed her, picking up speed quickly and easily overtaking a laughing Serena who seemed to be exceedingly pleased by the turn the evening had taken. An unexpected happiness bubbled up inside Bernie too, and it burst from her chest as a wild, delighted shriek when Serena caught up to her and grabbed her hand and they ran together for the last few feet. There were no cabs at the rank - no doubt due to the rain - but it didn’t matter. Bernie took Serena’s other hand in hers and the world seemed to stand still, like there was no-one in it but them, in the bubble of a Holby streetlight.

“Can I kiss you?” Bernie said, having to raise her voice slightly to be heard over the pounding of the rain. She didn’t dare imagine what she looked like - her hair hanging limply by her face, sticking to her cheeks, the small amount of makeup she’d been wearing no doubt washed away. Serena had been made if anything more beautiful by the rain; her face fresh and clean and shining with excitement and happiness.

“Yes please,” Serena replied, letting go of Bernie’s hands, but only so she could thread her fingers through her hair and pull her down. Their lips met and Bernie’s heart swooped in her chest. It was so, so perfect. Serena’s lips were soft and warm and moved so confidently against hers. She whimpered into the kiss, a whimper that turned into a full on moan at the first touch of Serena’s tongue. She had to wrap her arms round the other woman’s shoulders, as much for the support for her own wobbly legs as for the exquisite sensation of holding her.

Bernie had no idea how much time had passed - seconds? Minutes? Hours? - when the sweep of an approaching taxi’s headlights tore them apart. Serena’s lips were dark and kiss-bruised and her eyes were slightly glazed. “Want to come back to my place?” Bernie said, before she could consciously think about it.

Serena grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the waiting cab. “Yes.”

Bernie barely had time to mumble the address to the driver before Serena was on her again, her lips claiming hers in a continuation of their earlier kiss. Serena’s hands were everywhere, smoothing wet hair back from her face, sliding under the hemline of her shirt, squeezing lightly on her flexing biceps. She was drunk with the feeling of being worshipped and devoured, and she found her usual reticence being washed away by Serena’s overwhelming enthusiasm. So she let her hands move where they wanted, let herself touch and stroke, and trail her lips over rain-glistening skin to lick and suck and nip, eliciting the most beautiful gasps and strangled moans.

She tossed a twenty pound note at the driver to cover their twelve pound fare, considering the lost change as money well spent to minimise the time she was expected to spend not touching Serena. The trip up to her first floor flat was slightly hazardous, what with the slippery conditions from water tracked in by other residents and the sheer impossibility of them trying not to remain in contact while they ascended, but they managed it in the end. Bernie’s hands shook as she tried to slide her key into the door and it took her a couple of tries, especially when Serena flicked out her tongue to soothe a particularly impressive bruise on her collarbone that was already blossoming.

As soon as the door closed behind them Bernie pushed Serena up against the wall, intending to lavish the same kind of attention on her as she herself had enjoyed. Serena’s coat fell in a heap at her feet as she arched her back to meet Bernie’s insistent mouth. Bernie thought she heard a desperate keening sound, but it was hard to tell because of all the blood rushing in her ears.

More of Serena’s clothes disappeared on the way to the bedroom, until she found herself being pushed onto a very comfortable mattress wearing nothing but a pair of sensible black trousers. Her breath caught in her throat when Bernie kneeled down on the floor between her legs and ran her hands almost reverently over her thighs. Their eyes met and held as Bernie slowly unfastened the button and pulled down the zip before finally drawing the trousers down her legs and discarding them on the floor. It was done so smoothly and effortlessly that it took Serena a moment to realise that Bernie had managed to take off her underwear in the same movement.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bernie breathed, dipping her head to press a series of kisses over her thighs, her hands following the path down to her knees and calves. Serena found her legs parting without conscious thought, and Bernie took advantage of the motion to edge forward so that she was fully nestled between them.

Serena ran her fingers through Bernie’s slowly drying hair. “You’re overdressed,” she managed to gasp, but Bernie just shook her head.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t think I can wait.”

Serena frowned and opened her mouth to ask what she meant, but quickly found herself robbed of the power of speech when Bernie’s head dipped again. Her fingers tightened in Bernie’s hair at the first touch of her tongue and the only sound she could make was an incoherent moan of mingled pleasure and surprise.

Bernie was floating in something she could only describe as ecstacy and the only conscious thought in her head was to wonder how long she could do this before Serena would make her stop. She didn’t think being responsible for a single orgasm was going to be enough. She wasn’t sure how many would be, but she was happy to spend the whole night finding out. Serena tasted so damn good and the sounds she was making were setting off fireworks in Bernie’s brain. Her later in life revelation meant she wasn’t in any way experienced at this sort of thing - this was actually the first time that sex with a woman had taken place in a bed - but her enthusiasm made up for a lot, and Serena was so keyed up that any inadequacies in her technique didn’t seem to matter. 

Soon, much sooner than Bernie had expected and more quickly than she’d have preferred, she felt Serena’s thighs clench under her hands and her fingers scrape along her scalp as she came with an uninhibited yelp into the darkened room. Bernie could feel the tender flesh fluttering against her tongue. Her heart swooped and her head went a little fuzzy at the thought the  _ she had actually done that. _

“Again,” she growled, tearing her lips away with reluctance, but only so she could kiss a trail up Serena’s trembling body to find her mouth.

“I can’t,” Serena moaned into their kiss, but Bernie just shook her head.

“Again,” she repeated, in a tone she normally reserved for obnoxious new recruits just out of officer training.

Serena pulled limply at Bernie’s shirt. “I want to feel your skin on mine,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming.

Bernie stole another kiss before she complied, pulling back just long enough to divest herself of her shirt, bra, jeans, and everything else that was holding her back from feeling Serena moving against her.

They both gasped at the first press of their naked bodies together. The sensation was so warm, so delicious, that Bernie momentarily forgot her mission in order to revel in it. But then she allowed her hands to caress and stroke the dips and curves of Serena’s torso and Serena moaned into their kiss. Bernie slid her thigh between Serena’s and dipped her head to her neck as she felt Serena’s body arch up to meet her. “You taste so good,” she murmured, licking a salty bead of sweat from the straining tendon of her throat. “I love how your skin feels.”

“Bernie,” Serena managed to gasp in reply, but Bernie kissed her again before she could say anything else.

“Again,” Bernie whispered when the kiss broke, and Serena’s only reply was a whimper of surrender.

Bernie smiled as she ducked her head to explore more of the recently revealed landscape of Serena’s body with her lips and tongue. She mapped out a route over her stomach and chest, taking little detours and pit stops along the way - nibbling and kissing over a hipbone for a few moments, leaving a mark or two on the underside of a breast, tracing her tongue over the ridge of her collarbones - before finally taking a nipple in her mouth and giving it a small experimental suck. Serena was grinding helplessly against her thigh by now, gasping and moaning with pleasure and quite incapable of speech. “Is this how you like it?” Bernie asked anyway, smiling when a frustrated groan was her only reply. “Or do you want it a little rougher?” Serena bucked against her when she scraped the edge of her teeth across the sensitive flesh, and Bernie laughed. “Is that a yes?” she asked.

Serena’s only response was to slide her hand into Bernie’s hair, gripping just the right side of pain as she pulled Bernie’s mouth back where she wanted it. Her other hand came up to her other breast, pinching and pulling at the neglected nipple as she thrust against Bernie’s firm, muscular thigh. 

Bernie slid her hand down Serena’s side, revelling in the heat pouring off her and the softness of her curves. When she finally slipped her hand between their bodies and into the wet heat of Serena’s arousal she almost groaned aloud in sheer pleasure and wonder. She felt so good beneath her hand, so warm and wet, so soft and hard at the same time. She found her clit within seconds, but it was instantly clear from the the high, tight noise that Serena made in response to her touch that it was far too sensitive for direct contact. She allowed her fingers to trail lower instead, sliding inside her with ease. 

The sensation of Serena’s muscles clenching as if to draw her fingers in was one she thought would be burned into her memory forever. She moaned softly against Serena’s skin, her heart almost bursting with how amazing it felt to touch her, how good and how  _ right,  _ like their bodies had been built for each other.

“Bernie,” Serena gasped, her hips meeting each gentle thrust of her fingers. “Bernie…”

Her voice sounded tight, almost desperate, and Bernie had no interest in denying her what she so clearly wanted. Her hand began to move more purposefully between her legs, heightening the delicious combination of friction and pressure. When she thought Serena could take no more, she let her teeth rake over the nipple in her mouth one last time, while simultaneously moving her thumb so that it was applying a steady pressure just to the side of Serena’s oversensitive clit.

A sharp gasp almost like surprise was torn from Serena’s throat. “Fuck,” she moaned, her whole body going still, muscles tense and straining. 

Bernie felt the first pulses against her hand and tore her lips free. “Yes,” she hissed. “You feel so good Serena. You’re so beautiful when you come.”

Serena sobbed in mingled pleasure and relief, her hands clutching at Bernie as she rode wave after wave. Bernie didn’t think any feeling could ever top this. This was it, the pinnacle of what life had to offer. Better than being commissioned in the RAMC, better than winning medals or acclaim, better even than staring down the barrel of a seemingly hopeless surgery and coming out victorious on the other side.

Serena fell back at last, her limbs suddenly heavy and limp. For a few long moments she could do nothing but breathe hard, twitching still with the occasional aftershock. Then she began to laugh, eyes still tightly shut. “Wow,” she said. “How on earth did you do that?”

Bernie grinned, full of happiness and pride. “You clearly inspire me,” she said softly.

Serena opened her eyes at last, seeking Bernie’s in the dim light. She raised her hand and cupped her cheek, her eyes soft and happy. “You’re wonderful,” she murmured. “Come here.”

Their kiss was slow and gentle now, like a cooling rain after a long heatwave. Serena’s hands slid languorously over Bernie’s back and sides. Bernie was so focused on the wonderful feeling of Serena’s lips moving against hers that she didn’t notice the intent behind Serena’s movements until her hand moved between her legs.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, breaking their kiss in surprise. She’d been so focused on pleasing Serena, so engaged in thinking about how lovely it felt to touch her and taste her and make her come apart under her hands that she’d all but forgotten about herself. The first touch of Serena’s fingers fixed that. She suddenly realised that she was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life and that Serena wasn’t going to have to work very hard at all. She was like a stretched rubber band that was about one second from snapping.

“You’ve really been most considerate,” Serena said softly, her tone almost bland. “Generous, even. But what kind of a guest would I be if I let my host do all the work?”

Bernie managed a soft moan in reply. Serena moved slowly against her, her eyes dark and calculating as she explored and stroked, pressed and rubbed. Bernie felt like she was a piece of music being slowly learned by a concert pianist. And then Serena seemed to nod to herself, like she’d learned enough and had decided to show Bernie how well she could play.

“Serena!” she gasped, her hips thrusting against Serena’s hand as the other woman slid inside her and began to fuck her in earnest.

“I want you to come for me,” Serena said, in a tone of command that would have made the most hard-assed squaddie Bernie had ever served with snap to attention. Ever a good soldier, Bernie was no exception. Before she could quite register what was happening she found herself bucking against Serena’s hand, moaning her release into the darkness of the room.

When Serena finally pulled her hand away, Bernie collapsed bonelessly against her. She didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to. Serena’s arms slid round her shoulders pulling her close, and Bernie nuzzled against her neck. For a few long moments they just lay there, moving gently against one another and letting their heart rates return to normal.

“Well,” Serena began, then coughed to clear her throat. “I have to say that was the first time I’ve ended a train journey like that.”

Bernie laughed and raised her head so she could meet Serena’s eyes. “Me too,” she admitted.

A slow smile spread across Serena’s lips. Her eyes darkened as she leaned forward for a kiss. “Again,” she murmured, and Bernie laughed, allowing herself to be pushed onto her back. Serena swung her leg over her hips and straddled her, stretching her torso and arching her back as she did so.

Bernie gazed up at her, thinking she looked like a sculptor’s masterpiece come to life. She slid her hands over her stomach and hips, enjoying the sensation of stroking her skin. “Again,” she agreed. They were nowhere near done with each other yet.


	2. The Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serena wakes up in a strange bed after one of the most unexpected nights of her life.

Serena woke slowly, coming blearily back to consciousness with a buzzing sound in her ear and an unfamiliar warm weight draped over her waist. She blinked against the light as she came back to consciousness, wondering why she hadn’t closed the curtains the night before.

_ Oh. _

The unfamiliar decor of the room brought the previous night back in a rush and she felt her cheeks go hot at the memory of meeting Bernie, of all the outrageous flirting on the train, of the drink at the bar and the kiss in the rain and the taxi ride and...she shifted slightly, feeling the pleasant ache of underused muscles...and everything that had come after that.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t had one night stands before. Serena enjoyed sex, had never made any secret of it. Before she was married she’d sown her share of wild oats, and after Edward had revealed himself to be the sleazy cheating bastard he was, she’d enjoyed herself with a fair few men who scratched an itch but were clearly not relationship material. It had just been a while. And this was different, anyway.

Bernie stirred behind her, making a small sound that Serena couldn’t interpret and pulling her slightly more firmly against her curves.

And therein lay the difference.

Serena had only just begun to think of herself as bisexual in her own mind. Since her mother died, her life had changed in so many ways, both subtle and obvious, and it had taken her a little time to realise that her mother’s voice was still in her head. Adrienne’s approval had never come easily. She’d been an ambitious woman, frighteningly intelligent, with standards that Serena had spent her life trying and largely failing to meet. When she’d graduated second in her class at Oxford -  _ second place is just the first loser, Serena -  _ when she’d married Edward -  _ not the most handsome chap, is he? -  _ when she’d gone back to work six weeks after having Ellie -  _ I suppose a lot of children are brought up by nannies these days.  _ Even when she’d been made Deputy CEO.  _ Always the bridesmaid. _

That critical voice was still with her, whispering in its vicious little parentheses in her mind whenever she said or did something of which Adrienne would have disapproved. It had become such a part of her that she didn’t notice it at first. It was just part of the background noise of her thoughts. 

She could still remember the moment she became aware of it. She’d been talking to Fleur Fanshawe at her farewell do at Albie’s, before she went off to LA to do the lecture tour that Adrienne’s illness and subsequent death had forced Serena to give up. Fleur was flirting with her, because that’s what she did, it was how she related to the world. Serena knew it was meaningless, having been kept well appraised of the ward gossip about Fleur and her one-time (and apparently now rekindled) paramour up on Keller. But she found it pleasant anyway, the little back and forth, the chance to match wits and exercise a muscle she’d been leaving unused. And then Adrienne’s voice appeared in her head, clear as if she were standing next to her.

_ Oh, Serena. Really? What next? Dungarees and a crew cut? _

She’d put a stop to their banter right away, then mumbled an excuse before heading out into the frigid December air, her heart racing.

That had been the beginning of the long process of re-examining her life. She began to realise that there had always been something there, something she could never bring herself to acknowledge. Admiration for teachers at school - explained away as a desire to please the gatekeeper of a favoured subject. Friendships that were a little more intense than was usual - just another example of her trying too hard. Her desire to connect with women in every workplace she’d been in - passed off to herself as female solidarity in a male dominated profession. Anything to avoid admitting the truth and having to face her mother’s disappointment.

Adrienne would no doubt have objected strongly to being called homophobic. Certainly she had never been a Daily Mail reading frothing hate-monger - not her style. But there were more subtle, insidious forms of bigotry. A slight tightening of the lips on the very rare occasions that gay people had appeared on television while Serena was growing up. Making a young Serena walk on the other side of the road when they passed the house at the end of the street where the local librarian lived with his...friend. A caustic comment about Martina Navratilova having an unfair advantage playing against women while watching Wimbledon.

Serena had absorbed all of it like a sponge and internalised it so successfully that the idea of being anything other than a dyed in the wool heterosexual had never even occurred to her. She had spent much of the last two years re-examining that assumption and discovering that yes, she was attracted to women as well as men. Not as often, certainly, but much more often than she’d ever have imagined. But she’d never acted on it.

Until last night.

She felt Bernie move against her again ever so slightly, but it was enough to bring her out of her memories and back to the present. She suddenly realised that the buzzing noise she’d heard wasn’t just her body’s fuzzy reaction to waking up but was in fact her phone - still on silent - vibrating on the floor.

She extricated herself from Bernie’s sleeping embrace with some difficulty and gathered up her discarded clothes before tiptoeing into the bathroom. She found her phone in her trouser pocket after a brief search and unlocked it to find sixteen missed calls from Jason. She quickly called him back, wincing at the meltdown that was undoubtedly about to be unleashed. He answered on the second ring.

“Auntie Serena, where are you?” he demanded. “It’s scrambled eggs day and you’re not here and you didn’t answer your phone!”

Serena closed her eyes, kicking herself for forgetting what day it was. On toast and jam day he’d probably have been less worked up. “I’m sorry, darling,” she said, trying to keep her voice soothing. “My train back from Scotland was late and I decided to stay with a friend rather than disturb you.”

There was a pause while he digested her explanation. “Why are trains so often late?” he asked finally. “Is it because of the privatised rail franchises? Shall I tweet our MP again?”

“No!” Serena exclaimed, then quickly moderated her tone. “No Jason, I think the four things you tweeted him about last week were enough to be getting on with.” She pulled the phone from her ear so she could glance at the time. “I’m going to get a cab back just now so I can get ready for work, okay? I’ll be there in half an hour. Can you make yourself some toast instead of scrambled eggs, just this once?”

Jason sighed, having grown somewhat used to the way his aunt seemed to be incapable of living her life in an organised manner. “Fine,” he said. “But I want an extra large chips tonight. And a pickled egg. And a giant gherkin.”

Serena smiled. “Deal.”

Bernie was still asleep when she emerged, clothed again, from the bathroom. Serena stopped to take her in for a moment, letting her eyes rake over the tousled golden hair, the subtle play of muscle on her back, the slightly raised welts on her shoulder blades where Serena had dug her nails in during a particularly passionate moment. Serena didn’t remember falling asleep, hadn’t intended to spend the whole night at all, in fact, but at some point their movements had slowed and their caresses had turned gentle and the soft kisses they’d been exchanging had become less urgent. It had been nice, she thought, sleeping next to someone again. Waking up wrapped in someone’s arms. Warm and soft and...safe. That was unexpected. Bernie was barely more than a stranger. She had no right to feel safe in her arms, really. But she did.

Her phone buzzed in her hand and she glanced down to see that the Uber she’d ordered was just pulling up outside the building. For a moment, she hesitated. It was such a cliche, disappearing without a word. She thought about going over to the bed, waking Bernie with a kiss, leaving her card behind and telling the other woman to give her a call. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the same time as anxiety coiled in her gut like a poisonous snake.

The anxiety won. With one final look at Bernie’s sleeping face, she stepped silently into the hallway, retrieved her coat and bag, and slipped out of the door.

* * * * *

She ended up being a little late to work and had to endure Jason’s minute by minute updates on their punctuality all the way there. She was sure her teeth would be ground to a powder before she got to AAU, but she held her tongue. It wasn’t Jason’s fault that she’d fallen into bed with a total stranger and had to make an extra trip across town in the early morning. His need for routine and order was hardly a secret, and it was she who had disrupted it.

“I’m the head of department, I don’t keep a timesheet,” was all she said as they finally walked through the main entrance of Wyvern Wing just after ten past nine.

“Maybe that’s why we’re always late,” he observed as Serena headed to the Pulses counter to order the triple shot latte she hoped would get her through the morning.

It took a monumental effort of will not to snap back that if they were late it was because she was always exhausted, that the workload of running a department and being Deputy CEO had been barely manageable when she had no-one but herself to think of, that it was all but impossible to achieve now that she had him to worry about and cook for and entertain every single night without fail. She rarely got to sleep before two am these days, and regularly woke up with her laptop still precariously balanced on her lap, with her back aching from falling asleep sitting up. Getting out of bed was becoming harder and harder and she desperately needed some kind of relief. The conference in Glasgow had ended up being almost like a holiday. She’d gone to bed at ten every night and enjoyed hours and hours of blissful sleep, with no Countdown, no Pointless and not a Mary Beard documentary in sight.

“Well, I need my morning coffee, Jason, you know I’m a terrible grump without it.”

“Has there been a national shortage of coffee recently?”

“No, why?” she said warily, narrowing her eyes.

“You’ve been grumpy for weeks. That’s what Dr Digby and Mr Di Lucca say.”

Serena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, maybe that’s because I’m understaffed,” she said. “But we should be fixing that today.”

She’d gone to Hanssen last month when she’d finally had to admit that maintaining her current workload alongside her caring responsibilities was becoming untenable. He was keen to keep her as his deputy and she didn’t want to give up her department, so a compromise had been reached. He had advertised for a new consultant to serve as co-clinical lead of AAU - someone to lighten the load, to take over some of the surgical and administrative responsibilities, to allow Serena to stop taking home paperwork every night. It was a reasonable solution, and if it chafed a little to be giving up some of the control of the ward she’d poured so much of her life and energy into shaping and moulding...well, she’d just have to live with that. The interviews for the post were first thing that afternoon.

The morning passed quickly, with two emergency surgeries taking all her attention. She managed to bolt down a ham sandwich and another coffee just before one o’clock before she had to head up to the meeting room to assist Hanssen in interviewing the candidates for the co-lead position. “Only page if it’s an absolute emergency,” she called to Raf on her way out. He raised his hand in acknowledgement and smiled.

“Pick us someone good!”

She mentally reviewed the list of candidates on her way up in the lift, trying to remember their various strengths and experience. She was still going through half-recalled CVs when she opened the door to the waiting area.

And immediately closed it again. 

She sprang back, pressing herself against the wall instinctively, as if by doing so she could make herself invisible. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she edged over slightly and risked a peek through the door’s glass pane.

There she was, dressed in a navy blue skirt suit, looking slightly uncomfortable in her heels. Her messy blonde curls had been straightened and tamed into a professional bun, held in place by a simple navy blue hair clasp that matched her outfit. A laptop and a cardboard folder were sitting on the chair by her side, but she was frowning at her phone, tapping out the odd message, clearly in conversation with someone or other.

“Bernie,” Serena whispered, then quickly pressed herself back against the wall when the other woman glanced her way.

She reached for her phone and brought up the list of candidates and their corresponding interview times. There she was, first up - the only woman on the list. Berenice Wolfe, a former Major in the RAMC, ex-Iraq, ex-Afghanistan, currently locuming at St James’. An extremely impressive CV, and Serena’s personal favourite - or she had been, until now.

Her face flushed with heat at the thought of actually trying to interview this woman. Christ, she’d had her fingers inside her less than twelve hours ago. A little shudder ran down her spine as the memories flooded through her. No. No, it was absolutely impossible.

She dashed back into the lift and pressed the button that would take her to Keller, her heart thundering in her chest. She found Ric in his office, blessedly out of scrubs and doing paperwork. “I need your help,” she said without preamble, slipping into his office and closing the door firmly behind her.

He looked up at her in surprise. “Right,” he said. “What is it?”

She ignored the proffered chair and began pacing back and forth in front of his desk. “I need you take my place on the interview panel for the co-lead of AAU.”

“What?” He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Serena, half the point of you being on the panel is to judge if the appointee will be able to work well with you.”

She shot him a glance. “You know me well enough to judge that, I hope.”

He laughed again, slightly incredulously this time. “You’re willing to trust that to hope? Who are you and what have you done with Serena Campbell?”

She turned her back to him, crossing her arms over her chest as frustrated humiliation coursed through her veins. “I have no choice but to recuse myself,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “I’m...familiar with one of the candidates.  _ Intimately  _ familiar.”

He sat back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “And you’re just mentioning this now?” he said accusingly. “You’ve had these names for over a week!”

If it were possible to actually die of embarrassment, Serena thought there’d be a crash cart on hand outside the door. “Surnames were not exchanged,” she said, as delicately and primly as it was possible for her to be, given she was admitting to having slept with someone without even knowing who they were.

The look on Ric’s face told her she wouldn’t be living this one down for a while. But something in her expression must have told him not to push it. “All right,” he said. “But you’ll need to cover me here for the afternoon.”

“Fine.” She threw him a grateful glance. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded magnanimously but his eyes were twinkling. “I expect full details at Albie’s later. I’ll tell Hanssen you were...unavoidably detained.”

She couldn’t face going back to her own ward once he’d gone. It would just lead to awkward questions from Raf and Fletch about why she wasn’t interviewing candidates. Unavoidably detained wouldn’t work on them and the truth - that she’d sneaked out of one of the candidates’ beds without a word that very morning - was certainly not something that needed to be shared with either her registrar or her ward manager.

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, she cursed her own stupidity. If she hadn’t gone home with Bernie last night… But no, she couldn’t bring herself to regret that part of it. Indeed, the only regret she had was leaving before Bernie woke up. She’d known before the cab reached the end of the street that she’d made a mistake - let a moment of anxiety and doubt spoil what might have been the start of something wonderful. Bernie had been on her mind all day, and she’d been thinking about getting in touch with some colleagues at St James’ to see if she could scrounge up an email address. That would have been one thing - being on her interview panel was quite another.

She logged on to Ric’s computer and tried fruitlessly to get some admin done, but her eyes wouldn’t stop flicking to the clock. She knew the last candidate would be finishing up at around four o’clock, and that the deliberations probably wouldn’t take that long. She’d probably be meeting her co-lead before she clocked off for the day. The problem was, she couldn’t decide whether she was dreading the prospect of Bernie being chosen...or hoping for it.


	3. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, how awkward would it be to get a job working with your one night stand? Let's find out.

Ric smiled to himself as he walked away from the AAU office, having escorted the successful candidate there and promised to go and fetch Ms Campbell. He was confident that he and Henrik had picked the best person for the job, despite Serena’s absence. Hanssen hadn’t been happy, but he thought he’d managed to smooth things over without dropping Serena in it. That was two favours she owed him now.

A few years ago he’d have revelled in the cards he’d just been handed, back when he saw Serena as an adversary and nothing else. But they’d both mellowed over the years, and now all he was hoping for was a few free drinks at Albie’s and the opportunity for a little light teasing.  _ How times change, _ he thought with a grin.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t spent large portions of the interview process wondering which of the men in front of him Serena had dallied with. None of them really seemed her type. They were rather buttoned up, with competent but not necessarily earth-shattering surgical abilities. Any one of them would have proved to be excellent administrators of the ward, but Ric couldn’t imagine Serena working with any of them, much less sleeping with them.

Still, it wouldn’t be an issue. None of them had impressed either him or Hanssen. Their successful candidate, on the other hand, was talented, confident, ambitious, forward-thinking and - he and Hanssen had both agreed - the perfect complement to Serena, both in specialism and style. An equal.

“Good news,” he said as he opened the door to his office, startling Serena from a reverie. “You’ll find your new co-lead in your office. I think you’ll be pleased. No jilted lover awkwardness.”

Serena swallowed. “No?” Her voice came out a little strangled.

“Not unless you’ve switched teams without telling me,” he said, grinning. But the smile slid from his face as he took in the way her eyes widened and her skin paled. “Serena? Are you…”

She buried her face in her hands. “Oh God,” she mumbled into her palms. “Can you just kill me now and get it over with?”

Ric stood rooted to the spot for a long moment, thinking of the woman he’d just left in the AAU office. If he ignored the gender issue, she was indeed a much more suitable match for Serena than any of the men he’d interviewed today. And much more attractive. 

Shaking his head to clear it, he grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the desk so he could slide a hand onto Serena’s back. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I never thought...well, you flirt with everyone, but I never thought it meant anything. You never said you were…” He trailed off, unsure of the right terminology to use.

“Bi?” she said, rescuing him. “I didn’t know myself for half a century.” She shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it on and off since mum died. Re-examining a few things. But I’d never...I mean, it was all theoretical until…” She sighed as he slipped his arm around her shoulders and she sank gratefully into the half-embrace he was offering. “I met her on the train last night,” she said softly. “She was my seatmate. We talked for hours. I haven’t met anyone like her in so long. I felt I could really be myself with her, d’you know what I mean?”

Ric paused for a moment, weighing his words carefully. “It sounds like more than a one-night stand,” he said at last, and she laughed a hollow, self-reproaching laugh.

“I panicked,” she admitted. “Woke up this morning in a strange bed to sixteen missed calls from Jason and did a runner.” She shook her head. “What a cliche, eh?”

“Hmm,” he agreed, tightening his one-armed hug. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to postpone our trip to Albie’s for another day.” He raised an eyebrow as she turned towards him, frowning. “You need to go and talk to her. You two have to work together now. For the sake of AAU, you need to get over any lingering awkwardness ASAP.”

She groaned. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I know you’re right. Just…” She glanced up at him hopefully. “Let me hide here for five more minutes?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hiding? That’s not like you.”

“Neither is sleeping with women I don’t know and sneaking out of their beds the next morning.”

“Ah.” He turned his head, searching for her eyes. “And which part of that do you regret? Forgetting all the other complications for a moment. What do you wish you’d done?”

She looked at him for the space of a couple of heartbeats before flushing and turning away. “I wish I’d stayed,” she admitted quietly. “I wish I’d woken her up and talked to her.”

Ric shrugged. “Well, she’s in your office right now. You can still talk to her.” He held up a hand to forestall her objections. “I know it’s more difficult now. You have your working relationship to consider, plus I’ve no doubt there’ll be some lingering resentment about this morning.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Women don’t like being run out on,” he said, his expression gentling when she paled ever so slightly. “But you’re a formidable woman, Serena. In all aspects of your life.” He smiled. “And I don’t think you need to hide from anyone.”

After what felt like a long pause, Serena nodded, her face pensive. She stood up and ran her fingers through her hair, straightening out the fine brown strands. “D’you know, I think I’ll go and get it over with now,” she said. “No sense in delaying the inevitable. Thanks for your help today.”

He shrugged magnanimously. “Don’t mention it. And Serena?” She paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder at him. “I hope it all works out.”

Serena nodded. “Thanks,” she replied, and then was gone.

* * * * *

The AAU office was very orderly and clean. Everything was in its proper place, with shelves of folders and files arranged by topic, with different colours selected for each grouping. The two desks were fairly impersonal, apart from two photos next to the computer on the desk furthest from the door - one of a young woman with long brown hair and a dimple in her chin, and the other of a slightly older young man with a mop of dark curly hair. Her new co-lead’s children, perhaps?

Bernie knew from the interview that this ward had been led by one consultant for many years and that a period of adjustment would no-doubt be required. Hopefully her new colleague wasn’t set in her ways - she’d already had a number of ideas to improve the ward’s handling of trauma cases. She’d accepted the post on the condition that she and the so far elusive Ms Campbell would be equals. She knew the old aphorism that two consultants of equal status and ability on one word were bound to butt heads, but perhaps all that could be avoided. She certainly hoped so.

She allowed her mind to drift back to that morning, to the slow, languorous stretch of waking and then the disappointment of realising she was alone. It shouldn’t have meant so much. She was foolish to have ascribed any meaning to it at all - but  _ oh, _ the way she and Serena had fit together. She’d romanticised a sweaty fumble with a stranger, she could see that now. She’d almost cancelled this interview today, worried she’d see Serena the moment she walked through the front entrance, but her professionalism had won through in the end. She knew she was a good fit for this job and she’d do it well. She could compartmentalise her professional life from her personal disappointments. After all, she’d been doing it for twenty five years - throwing herself into each new posting, each new tour, to distract herself from everything that was wrong between her and Marcus. And what was one - admittedly wonderful - one-night stand compared to that?

She’d just pulled her phone out of her bag and was in the middle of texting her son Cameron that she’d got the job, when the office door slowly swung open.

“Bernie.”

The voice was horribly familiar. Bernie froze for a second, then looked up, her face paling. “Oh,” she groaned. “You’ve got to be joking.”

* * * * *

They went to a pub a few miles from the hospital, neither of them keen to hash this out with half of the staff of Wyvern eavesdropping. Bernie watched as Serena went to the bar and returned with a glass of wine in each hand: one red; one white.

“Thought the weather was a little warm still to get you red,” she said with a small smile. Their fingers brushed against each other as she passed her the glass. Bernie looked away, her cheeks flushing with an unexpected rush of an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Embarrassment? Desire? A mix of the two?

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied. “I can see things potentially turning frosty.”

Chagrined, Serena looked away. “I deserve that,” she murmured. “I suppose sorry won’t cut it?”

Rather than answer, Bernie looked down at the her wine, watching the condensation bead and drift down the curve of the glass. It reminded her of last night’s rain, the sudden downpour that had led to their wild run for a cab, the kiss they’d shared under the streetlight. She shook her head as if to clear it, then took a long sip of her drink.

“I assume you left because you thought better of our little dalliance,” she said at last. “I wasn’t expecting an engagement ring on my pillow this morning, but a goodbye would have been nice.”

Without a conscious decision to do so, her hand came up to slide gently over the line of her collarbone. She could still feel the marks of Serena’s teeth on her skin. She’d carry the tiny bruises for days, a visceral reminder of a night of pleasure and passion that had evidently meant more to her than to the woman across the table.

Serena’s eyes drifted down to Bernie’s slowly moving fingers and darkened a shade closer to black. She swallowed hard, like she too was remembering what lay beneath the ultra-professional white shirt and navy jacket. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice a little husky. She coughed demurely and took a sip of wine. “It felt like the right thing to do at the time, but it was a...rather large mistake.”

Bernie flinched. “Right,” she murmured. “Well, you needn’t worry. I don’t see why it should affect our professional relationship.” Her voice was clipped and cold, decades of experience in repressing her emotions keeping her face a dispassionate mask.

Serena blinked like she was confused. “Really? I...I thought maybe we-”

Bernie cut her off with a shake of her head. “Don’t worry about it Serena,” she said. “When I start next week we can pretend you’ve never met me before.” She brought the glass to her lips once again, but to her consternation she found it empty. She couldn’t remember drinking it. Serena’s own glass was still practically full, but she nodded towards it anyway. “Can I get you another?”

Serena shook her head dumbly as Bernie slid from her seat and headed towards the bar. She pulled a twenty from her purse and caught the barman’s attention with a nod. “Whisky,” she said. “Double.”

She covered her face with her hands while he was pouring, feeling the harsh sting of tears that she refused to shed prickling behind her eyelids. She refused to cry over Serena bloody Campbell, a woman she barely knew, a stranger who’d oh so briefly visited her bed and then left at dawn like it had all been some tawdry mistake. Forget that she’d made Bernie feel more alive than she had in years, maybe since before the IED had blown her life into a thousand pieces of shrapnel. Forget the way she’d smiled and laughed and come undone at her touch. Forget how right it had felt, like it was somehow meant to be. Stupid, romantic notions. Childish. Foolish. Impossible.

“Buck up, soldier,” she mumbled to herself as the barman delivered her drink. She downed half of it in one gulp. The alcoholic sting was a welcome pain in her throat, and it gave her eyes an excuse to be red and misty.

She was about to square her shoulders and head back to the table when she felt a warm palm slide between her shoulder blades. She stiffened, ready to snap at whoever had decided it would be okay to touch her without permission, but the voice made her pause.

“I think you’ve misunderstood me,” Serena said gently, her voice low and soft. “I didn’t mean being with you was a mistake, Bernie. Leaving you was.”

For a long moment, Bernie remained still and quiet, her fingers gripping the whisky glass so hard her knuckles were nearly white. A muscle in her jaw clenched and relaxed rhythmically. She couldn’t look at Serena.

“Let’s go back to the table,” Serena continued smoothly. “I want to explain.”

Wordlessly, Bernie allowed herself to be led back to the table and settled herself back into her chair. She took another sip of her whisky.

“Okay,” Serena said. “Firstly, I can see that what I did this morning hurt you. I’m very sorry for that.”

Bernie opened her mouth to deny it, then bit back the response. What was the point? Where would lying about how she was feeling get her? “Yes,” she said instead. “It did. But you don’t owe me anything, Serena.”

Serena shook her head. “I disagree,” she said. “I owe you an explanation. The truth is…” She trailed off, looking away for a moment before meeting Bernie’s eyes. “The truth is I’ve never been more than friends with a woman before.” Her eyes softened. “I had a wonderful night with you. It was like a dream. Then I woke up this morning and everything was real again. I panicked.” She took a small sip of her wine. “I’m sorry.”

A rowdy group of young men entered the pub, crashing through the door singing about Bristol Rovers, as if the fact that they supported a team in the third tier of the football league was something the world needed to know. They swerved their way up to bar, chattering and laughing deeply and obnoxiously. Serena turned an irritated glance on them, and was still staring daggers into the ringleader’s back when she felt a warm hand cover hers on the table.

When she turned back, Bernie was watching her with a gentle expression on her face. Slowly, she turned her hand so the palm was facing up and she could slide it gently against Bernie’s. But just as Bernie opened her mouth to speak, Serena’s phone shattered the moment. Bernie flinched and pulled her hand away as Serena fumbled for her bag, apologising and cursing in turns.

“Jason,” she sighed as she brought her mobile to her ear. “No, I haven’t forgotten.” She glanced at her watch and winced. “Yes, I know I’m late again. I’m sorry. I must have lost track of the time.” Her eyes flicked to Bernie’s face, regret colouring them even darker than last night’s passion. “Yes, I’m on my way. I promise.” 

Bernie stared at the grain of the table as Serena finished up her conversation, her heart thumping in her chest like she’d run a race. “Boyfriend?” she muttered when Serena finally hung up. She tried very hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but from the thunderous look on Serena’s face, she didn’t think she’d succeeded.

“I realise you don’t have much of a reason to think well of me after this morning,” she said coldly. “But I’m not a cheat. I would never do that to anyone. Ever.”

Chagrined, Bernie looked away. “I’m sorry,” she said, then closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose. “Jason. Your nephew. You told me about him on the train.”

“I did,” Serena allowed, watching a mix of embarrassment and relief wash over Bernie’s face. Her annoyance at the other woman’s presumption suddenly died. “Come back and have dinner with us,” she said abruptly, before she really had a chance to examine the impulse.

Bernie looked up sharply. “What?”

Serena hesitated for a moment, then pressed on.  _ In for a penny,  _ she thought. “I don’t want us to leave things like this,” she said. “But I really do need to go. Jason’s very particular about when he eats, and I already ruined his schedule...this morning.” She raised an eyebrow meaningfully, and Bernie felt a blush of colour rise to her cheeks. “So come and have dinner with us and we can...talk about how we’re going to make this work.”

Bernie looked down at her glass, turning over the suggestion in her mind. Perhaps it would be good to introduce a third party. The presence of Serena’s nephew would help to remove some of the emotion from the situation. Let them look at things from a professional standpoint.

“Okay,” she said, and downed the last of her drink. “I’ll follow you, shall I?”

Serena ended up leading her to a quiet residential street lined with trees, a far cry from the more bustling neighbourhood of Bernie’s flat. This was a proper grown-up house, Bernie thought, not unlike the one she’d shared with Marcus for so many years. They’d stopped at a local chip shop on the way to pick up dinner - Jason’s schedule, Serena had explained. He wasn’t only particular about the time of his meal, it seemed. Bernie had watched, slightly baffled, as Serena had dashed back into the takeaway after reaching the car, returning after a few moments with a pickled egg and a giant gherkin in a clear plastic bag. “Long story,” she’d said at Bernie’s quizzical frown.

“Just hang your coat up on the hook,” Serena said as she ushered Bernie into a plushly decorated hallway. “You can keep your shoes on or take them off, I don’t mind.”

Serena herself seemed more than ready to divest herself of the leopard print heels she’d chosen to wear that day. Bernie took the opportunity to get rid of hers too. Her feet were aching, and she was very much looking forward to getting started at the job itself, when trainers and scrubs would be the order of the day, rather than the confining trappings of acceptable female professional wear she was chafing against now. Life was easier when fatigues and combat boots were all that were required, she thought - not for the first time.

Serena led her through to a table in the kitchen and busied herself pulling down plates from a cupboard. “Jason will be through when University Challenge finishes,” she explained, glancing at the clock. It seemed they had a minute or two.

“Should I let you tell him I’m here before he comes in?” Bernie asked.

Serena nodded. “Yes, that’s probably a good idea. He needs to be prepared for changes to his routine.”

Comprehension slowly dawned. “Ah,” Bernie replied. “He probably didn’t much like it when you didn’t come home last night?”

Serena winced. “You could say that,” she allowed. “Sixteen missed calls when I woke up.”

“Ouch.” She glanced at the clock again. “How about if I nip to the toilet to wash my hands, and let you give him a bit of warning?”

Serena smiled gratefully. “Top of the stairs,” she said.

Serena’s bathroom was as large as some flats Bernie had lived in, and as nicely decorated as the hall and kitchen had been. Bernie washed her hands slowly, glad that her flat had been dark and that they’d both been...otherwise occupied when Serena was there. Her own rather spartan living space didn’t begin to compare to this place, which was clearly a  _ home,  _ not just a house.

She found Jason and Serena sitting at the table dishing up fish and chips onto plates when she returned. Jason turned to face her with an analytical air. “You must be Ms Wolfe,” he said.

“And you must be Jason.” She held out her hand and he shook it firmly, before returning his attention to the food, which seemed to be of much greater importance. Clearly he wasn’t fussed about having a dinner guest as long as he still ate on time.

They began to eat, and it turned out that Jason was very interested in Bernie’s army career. He peppered her with questions about tanks, and combat, and different types of rifles. She answered everything to the best of her ability, and if she felt a little nonplussed by the intensity of his interest, she did her best not to show it.

“Why don’t you two go and get comfortable in the living room while I wash up?” Serena suggested when they were done. “Bernie and I need to talk about work for a bit, but you two can finish up with tank talk first if you like.”

Bernie smiled as she let Jason lead her into the living room. He was an interesting young man - a bit intense, a bit strange in some ways, true, but Serena’s love for him shone through in every interaction, and Bernie found herself being charmed by it, like their familial affection was a fireplace she’d been allowed to warm her hands by for the evening.

“You and your auntie have a very nice house,” she commented politely as she sat down in the armchair Jason directed her towards.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I’d like us to have a video game room, but Auntie Serena doesn’t see why it’s necessary.” He pinned her with a glance. “Are you going to be Auntie Serena’s friend now that you’re working together?”

She blinked at the sudden change in topic. “Uhm…” she began. “Possibly. That’d be nice. But we don’t always get on with people we work with. As long as the work doesn’t suffer.”

Jason shook his head, frowning. “I think you should be friends. Auntie Serena doesn’t have that many.”

“Oh?” Bernie asked, in spite of herself. “Why?” 

Jason’s expression fell. “Because of me.”

“What? Oh, Jason, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is.” He shrugged. “She was meant to be moving in with Robbie, but he stopped calling when I came to live here. And I heard her friend Sian saying she was no fun anymore. Elinor said they used to go out together every month, but now Auntie Serena has to stay at home with me. Sometimes I have to get up at night to get a drink, and her light’s still on. I think she stays up late to work.” He glanced over his shoulder to check that his aunt wasn’t coming into the room. “I don’t understand why she has to do that.”

Bernie did. She had a sudden, vivid image of what Serena’s life was like. Running a ward and being the Deputy CEO of a large hospital was an astonishing workload for anyone, but couple that to her responsibilities at home to meet Jason’s needs...it was now abundantly clear to her why she’d been brought on to co-lead AAU. Serena needed help, and work was the only place she could get it. From what Jason was saying, it seemed she had been badly let down by friends who couldn’t be bothered with her when she wasn’t entertaining them, and by what sounded like a boyfriend who’d ditched her as soon as the situation got complicated.

“You two getting along?” Serena asked breezily as she came in from the kitchen, wiping her damp hands on her trouser leg.

“Yes,” Jason replied, then grinned. “I like Dr Bernie.”

Bernie returned the smile with one of her own. “I like you too, Jason.”

Jason turned to Serena. “I’m going to go upstairs and play on my Playstation until ten o’clock. I’ll be back down for the news. Please try to have your work conversation done by then.”

Serena favoured him with a mock salute. When he was gone, she settled herself down onto the sofa opposite Bernie’s chair. “As you can see, we’re on a time limit,” she said. 

Bernie smiled. “Why don’t you tell me about AAU.”

She listened as Serena described the ward and the staff, smiling at Serena’s obvious affection for all the nurses and junior doctors she’d taken under her wing. They sounded like a good team, a little family, and she hoped she’d be able to integrate into it successfully. She had a feeling that Serena would be the main obstacle there. There was a touch of the mother hen in some of the things she’d said, particularly about the young doctors.

“And how do you feel about loosening your grip?” she asked pointedly.

Serena opened her mouth to reply, then bit back her response. “I’ll have to adapt,” she said at last. “The truth is, Bernie, I need the help. My situation at home with Jason and his needs has been a touch...overwhelming.”

Bernie nodded seriously. “I can understand that,” she said. “Something had to give?”

“Yes,” Serena admitted, then glanced up at Bernie with hooded eyes. “Getting in someone to share the load on AAU was the simplest solution. But I’ve stuffed that up, haven’t I?”

Bernie paused before replying. “Have you?”

“You tell me.” Serena leaned forward. “Are we going to make this work, Bernie?”

For a moment, Bernie stayed where she was, contemplating the earnest expression on Serena’s beautiful face. Then she slid off her chair and kneeled in front of Serena, finding her hand and tangling their fingers together. 

“What you said before,” she said softly, “about last night being like being in a bubble. You described something very similar to an experience I’ve had myself.” She took a deep breath. “My last relationship blew up. Quite literally.” She tapped her chest, above the scar that marked where her sternum had been cracked open. “We were caught up in the same IED. And before that I was married for twenty-five years to a man I didn’t know I didn’t love.” She shook her head ruefully. “I think...maybe we’ve just had bad timing?”

Serena’s face fell. “Right,” she murmured, her disappointment obvious.

Bernie smiled gently as she continued. “We’ve done this all backwards,” she said. “I think the sexual chemistry is pretty undeniable. But...we don’t really know each other, Serena.”

Serena sighed. “I know.” She risked a glance into Bernie’s eyes. “But we could. If you wanted to.”

Bernie’s lips twitched. “I’m sure we will, given we’re going to be working closely together.”

Serena looked away. “So...you just want to be colleagues...co-leads…” 

Serena trailed off as Bernie cupped her cheek, forcing her to meet her eyes. “I want to work on being those things,” she agreed. “And I also want to get to know you, and for you to get to know me.”

“Like friends?” 

“Exactly like friends,” Bernie replied, hesitating only a moment before leaning forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to Serena’s lips. It lasted only a second or two, but Serena’s eyes were shining when she pulled back and took a breath. “And then maybe one day down the line...if we both wanted more…” 

A slow, beautiful smile spread over Serena’s face. “Really?”

Bernie ducked her head shyly, dropping her palm from Serena’s face and finding her hands. “Work comes first,” she said. “I don’t think you’d want it any other way. But...I’d be open to seeing if there could possibly be something more.” She glanced up again into Serena’s shining face. “If you are.”

“I am,” Serena said, those two simple syllables seeming to convey a wealth of meaning, thrumming just below the surface like a heartbeat. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long, silent moment, then Serena smoothly turned their palms so they were shaking hands. “Serena Campbell,” she said, a little breathlessly.

Bernie returned her smile. “Bernie Wolfe,” she replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you ask, yes, I'll write a follow-up one of these days ;-)


End file.
